Where We Go
by Desbelleschoses
Summary: A few years after Dan's death, Tsunade is still coming to terms with the loss. Jiraiya's unexpected return from the Rain is more beneficial than he could have expected.


A warm breeze rustled the leaves hanging off the branches down below. The sun shone down invitingly, bathing the view in light, dispelling any shadow as it hung directly overhead. Birds sang, and the scant clouds in the sky brought no rain. The day was beautiful, and it was all wrong.

Today was Dan's twenty-ninth birthday.

Tsunade couldn't bring herself to stand in front of his grave, to lay down flowers and talk to a headstone like nothing was wrong. She couldn't stand the pity she felt from others when she went to the graveyard, and she didn't want to hear the whispers about whether she was sad enough, bereaved enough, healed enough, happy enough. It was none of their fucking business what she was.

The view in front of her as she stood on the cliffside was breathtaking. Her grandfather had made these forests, had brought life out of nothing and created organization that was purely, instinctually natural. She knew she had always been his favorite. What would he think if he saw her now?

The legendary Hashirama, the man who brought the Hidden Leaf into being and organized the five great nations, was fondly remembered by any who knew him and even those who didn't. Whatever the village expected of her, she could never measure up to his legacy. She was Senju in name alone; she'd convinced herself of that years ago.

Her grandfather could create life in the palm of his hand. She couldn't save the person she cared most about in the world.

Her foot shifted on the precipice, sending a rock careening down the cliffside. It fell through the leaves with a barely audible woosh, rustling the branches down below for a fraction of a second.

It would be so easy. It wouldn't be dramatic or shameful. They would say she fell. It wasn't likely that a ninja of her caliber would do so, of course, but it was easier to explain away. She tripped, she wasn't looking, she stepped on an unstable rock formation.

Tempting fate, she lifted her right foot and let it dangle over the edge. Would anyone care? Nawaki and Dan were gone. Orochimaru hid himself in his lab so often that she doubted he cared about any human companionship. Hiruzen-sensei had bigger things to worry about. As for Jiraiya… _he could be dead for all you know_.

Her breath hitched at the intrusive thought. It had been three years since they'd left him behind with those children from the Rain. She didn't know why she'd expected him to write. It wasn't like him to do so. The war raged on, battles were fought, and his name was never spoken.

This goddamned war…

It would be so easy. Even she couldn't be this strong. The breath she took seemed sweeter, more inviting, as she closed her eyes. Her weight shifted, and she pulled her right foot back to rest on solid ground. The toes of her sandals peeked over the edge, and the sway of her body drew her enticingly between stability and nothingness. The sensation released some sort of high in her, steadying her heartbeat and regulating her breathing. What was that scent?

She knew intimately what death smelled like. It was iron and decay and ash. Life, she knew, smelled like a sterile hospital room, sweat and effort, like a newborn. This was neither. It was this in-betweenness that had her lean forward subconsciously, trying to get another whiff so she could place whatever was so delectable.

She lost her balance, and her heart caught in her throat as her body tilted forward. With her left foot, she sprung back, throwing herself away from the precipice. In her terror, her landing was less than graceful. She lost her footing and stumbled, her body tumbling to the ground. She rolled over the rocky cliff once, twice, before she came to a stop. Scratched and bruised, she pushed herself up to her hands and knees.

She collapsed into a seated position and drew her knees to her chest. Her body shook. She rested her forehead on her knees and took several, shuddering breaths as she tried to fight the nausea that overwhelmed her.

Perhaps it wasn't as easy as she'd hoped.

A choked sob rang out, and she wondered where it came from. By the second time the sound emerged, she realized she was crying. Finally, she allowed herself to let go. Her forearms stung from shallow cuts. Her scraped knee needed to be cleaned. It would take all of five minutes to heal herself, if she had the presence of mind to do so. She gripped her legs tighter as she bordered on hysteria. She'd held it in too long; she was a medic, she knew better than that. Stifling emotion could lead to depression, anxiety, and psychosis in extreme cases. It was textbook.

She gagged when she smelled the blood coming from her knee. She pulled her hands away and looked down, trying not to faint when she saw the blood on her hand. It was okay. It was only a little blood. Her blood. It was a scratch. She was fine. It was fine. Repeating these mantras to herself, she tore some fabric from the hem of her shirt and did her best to remove the gravel from her knee. She bound the flesh wound with the scrap of fabric, which would, hopefully, stop the bleeding. At the very least, it kept her from seeing the blood. She wiped her hands on her shirt, trying to rid herself of any visible sign of the injuries she'd given herself.

How foolish could she be? She was a medic ninja that was afraid of blood. Of course she didn't have the courage to go through with it! She was a coward. Letting herself fall, being free, was too much for her. Her fear held her back. She hated herself in that moment. How could she be so weak?

She took the long way down the cliff, choosing to take the marked, pedestrian path rather than the face of the rock formation. She didn't trust herself not to panic if she were to jump over the edge, even if she had every intention of climbing down rather than falling. Her feet carried her along, muscle memory taking her where she needed to go without conscious thought.

The pond at the base of the cliff, behind the gradual slope that curved up the side with the path, was just what she needed. Careful of her knee, she sat on the bank, rubbing her hands together beneath the water. It seemed sanitary enough, and she took the time to clean the dirt and stone from her forearms. The water washed the cuts clean and soothed the red, irritated skin. She needed both hands to use her medical jutsu, so, unfortunately, her arms would be healing on their own. It wasn't something she would bother anyone at the hospital with.

Her knee, however, could be helped. She took a deep breath to steady herself before untying the cloth, exposing the wound. She shifted her position to move her knee to the water, splashing it carefully to wash out anything she wasn't able to get before. The water removed almost all traces of blood, especially when she rubbed the skin around the injury. Finally able to look at it, Tsunade straightened her leg and hovered her hands over her knee.

A greenish glow of chakra emanated from around her palms, working to stitch the skin back together. She could perform this jutsu in her sleep, she'd done it so many times. Sleep sounded wonderful. Maybe she should just lie down for a nap here. She could sleep the day away and, hopefully, not wake up until tomorrow. Tomorrow, the pain wouldn't be as bad. If it were tomorrow, she could function. Her head would be a little clearer and she could face the village, just as long as it wasn't today.

It was tempting. The sun indicated that it was approaching late afternoon. She moved her hands from her knee to examine her handiwork before she realized. If she slept, she might dream. If she dreamt, she'd almost certainly be caught in nightmares. It was rare for her to spend a single night without one.

She sat cross-legged on the bank, placing her head in her hands and her elbows on her knees. Whoever said that war took your body but not your soul was dead wrong. For Tsunade, the exact opposite was true. Her spirit was made up of scavenged pieces, held together with chewing gum and tape. The gaping holes torn out by loss were stitched together with temari thread, too bulky for such a fragile job. She was patchwork at best, and she knew it.

At first, she dismissed the rustling of leaves as an animal, far too tired to use her chakra to detect the source. The stick that broke snapped too loudly to have been stepped on by anything but a human. She pulled a kunai from her pack and threw it, twisting her torso for better aim and momentum. The movement bought her enough time to stand on her feet, second kunai in hand.

"I come in peace!"

Tsunade narrowed her eyes, studying the figure that had flattened against a nearby tree, ducking just enough that the kunai stuck in the wood just above his head. "Jiraiya?" she asked hesitantly, not sure if her mind was playing tricks on her.

The white-haired man plucked the kunai from the tree and straightened up, looking affronted. He moved slowly, clearly intending to avoid spooking her, although she couldn't tell if he was being facetious or if she'd actually scared him. "You know, Princess, unless things have changed, I'm pretty sure that's not how comrades greet one-another."

She scowled as she approached him, punching him in the arm forcefully; it wasn't enough to injure him, but it was hard enough to sting.

"Fuck!" Jiraiya rubbed his arm, genuine hurt in his eyes. "You know, if you didn't want me to come back, you could have just said so."

"Three years!" She struck him again. "You couldn't write once _in three years_?!" Her fist collided with his chest. "I thought you died, you _asshole_!" She slammed the sides of her fists against his torso, emphasizing each word. "I thought you fucking died, out there in the Rain. Not _one fucking letter!_ "

He didn't try to stop her. She was right, and he knew he deserved it. This wasn't how he'd planned on announcing his return. He was going to show up on her doorstep with flowers and an invitation to dinner. It was just his luck that he'd stumble upon her in the forest just outside the village. He didn't know what to say, but Tsunade never gave him the chance, so it didn't really matter.

"I hate you! I hated you for dying because you stayed behind. And now you just _show up_ , with your 'Princess' this and your stupid jokes!" she growled, tears of frustration and anger welling in her eyes. "Fuck you!"

Jiraiya was at a loss. The only thing his mind thought to do was wrap his arms around Tsunade. He pulled her to his chest and cradled the back of her head with one hand. The difference in their height had her head against his shoulder. She continued to pound her fist into his collarbone, each blow becoming weaker. To her shame, her knees gave out and she sobbed, supported by Jiraiya's hold on her.

Carefully, he lowered them both to the ground, where she sat with her head buried in his chest. One hand held the back of her head, and the other gently rubbed her back as he rocked her back and forth, murmuring assurances every so often. Eventually, her body stopped shaking and the tears stopped falling, but still he held her, stroking her hair as they sat in silence.

She was tired, so very tired. She didn't have enough energy to lift her head. He smelled awful; he smelled like travel and oil. She wanted to tell him as much, but she couldn't find her voice. Anything she said right now would sound too pathetic without her biting sarcasm. She simply didn't have it in her. However, she knew she owed him an explanation.

"It's his birthday."

Jiraiya hummed. So it was. He'd forgotten.

"I was at our spot, up on the cliff. I thought about him, and Nawaki, and you, believe it or not. Well, dead you."

"I should be flattered."

"Just… stop." She sighed. "Please."

"I'm sorry." He meant it.

She was silent for a moment, weighing whether or not she should admit this next part out loud. "I wanted to jump." He didn't speak, so she continued. "I really did. But when I started to fall, I… I was too afraid." Her voice was filled with self-loathing. "I could have been with them again, but I was too goddamned scared to do anything about it." She shook, the tears finding their way back. She took several deep breaths, trying to center herself.

"Well, that's stupid." Jiraiya said bluntly. She wrenched herself free from his grasp to look him in the eye. "They wouldn't want that. You really think I, or Dan, or Nawaki would have been happy about that? Princess, grow up. That could easily have been the most selfish, idiotic thing you could have ever done."

She scowled at him, but he didn't give her a chance to bite back. "You have people here who need you, who love you. Think about how it would have been for me to come home, to know that if I'd been a few hours earlier, I could have saved you."

She didn't have to think about it. She knew that pain all too well because of Dan.

"Nawaki and Dan would want you to live your life, Tsunade. I would want you to live your life. Hell, that's what I want for you _now_. Living in the past and throwing yourself off cliffs is the exact opposite of that. Hey, look at me." He guided her face up by grabbing her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "If I die before you do, _if_ , and you think the way to handle it is to give up, I swear to every powerful being in the universe that I will personally make the eternity of your afterlife hell."

The look in his eyes was so serious that it was comical. Despite herself, she gave a small smile.

"It's not funny, Princess. I mean it. I do that already without even trying. Just wait to see what happens when I put my mind to it."

She hit his chest softly. "You're an asshole."

"You love it."

To his surprise, instead of their usual banter, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him in for a hug. "Thank you," she murmured.

He returned the gesture, resisting the urge to hold her tightly. "Any time." He meant it. "You know you've always got me in your corner." He caught her by the wrist when she pulled away, turning her arm over to examine the scratches. "How the hell have you survived without me?" he asked jokingly.

"It's been hard." Her eyes flickered down to her arm at the admission. "Things changed when you left."

"What do you mean?" Jiraiya shrugged off his pack and searched for his med kit. He opened it and began to bandage her forearm.

"Sensei is busy being Hokage, like always. That hasn't changed." Tsunade offered him her other arm. "I haven't seen Oro in weeks, now. He just hides himself in that lab, working on god knows what. He doesn't talk about it. Hell, he barely talks to me at all anymore."

Jiraiya bit his tongue. Neither of them thought to check in on Tsunade on one of her worst, traumatic days of the year. He was gone; he had an excuse. But they were there, the whole time. Afraid to know the answer, he forced himself to ask, "What have you been doing, these last few weeks?"

"Nothing." She let her arms fall, placing her hands in her lap. "I mean, I've sat in on meetings, done my job, given advice when it was wanted… but, nothing."

He knew what she meant. He always knew what she meant. On any other day, it would have infuriated her, but it was a relief not to have to explain to him. She didn't have to say that she hadn't had any personal contact in weeks. He knew without her saying so that she'd spent most of her time in her apartment, trying to hide away from the world. He reached out and took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. She let him. They sat quietly for several minutes, as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

Pulling his hand away, he stood up and hefted his pack back onto his shoulders. He offered Tsunade a hand up, which she took. "Well, now that I'm back, we'll fix that. For the past three years, I've been living with a bunch of kids. Right now, I want nothing more than to take you with me to a bar, get completely shitfaced, sing some karaoke, and wake up with a terrible hangover and no idea how I got where I am." He grinned down at her. "My treat."

Tsunade scoffed. "You can't afford that."

"Hell, yeah, I can. You're looking at a soon-to-be-published author, Princess. I'm gonna coast on royalties for the rest of my life."

"You're a sannin, not a writer," she protested.

"No reason I can't be both. Come on, we both need this, and you know it. Don't turn me down. I _could_ go ask Orochimaru, but he wouldn't be half as fun, and you know it."

The thought of Orochimaru getting drunk and seeing karaoke was absurd, and the humor lightened her spirit. She would never understand how he could swoop in at the exact moment she needed him and say all the right things. She wasn't fair to him. She couldn't give him what he deserved. It was selfish of her to let him do everything he did for her, knowing that he never expected anything in return.

All things considered, she was okay with being a little selfish after the day she'd had. "Alright. Sounds fun. I could use it."

"Damned right, you could." He threw an arm over her shoulders and guided her beside him, through the trees to the road that would take them home. Broken as they both were, she hadn't felt this whole in a long time.


End file.
